


catharsis

by 47_Protons



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Arson, Catharsis, Implied/Referenced Rape/Non-con, Peter Considers Getting Therapy, Peter Parker Needs a Hug, catharsis in the 'write out your trauma then burn the evidence' way, it's Skip
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-17
Updated: 2020-06-17
Packaged: 2021-03-04 02:01:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24765838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/47_Protons/pseuds/47_Protons
Summary: Peter’s hand shook as he pushed the pen to the small notepad. Pen, impossible to erase. Black ink with a stark contrast against the new white paper and faint blue lines. Ink flowing from his head to his hand through the pen and onto the paper, into the world. His hand stills as he writes just a few simple words-I remember too much.Catharsisnounthe process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions.
Relationships: Ned Leeds & Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 2
Kudos: 23





	catharsis

Peter’s hand shook as he pushed the pen to the small notepad. Pen, impossible to erase. Black ink with a stark contrast against the new white paper and faint blue lines. Ink flowing from his head to his hand through the pen and onto the paper, into the world. His hand stills as he writes just a few simple words-  _ I remember too much. _

He has to stop for a few seconds to stare at that one sentence. So short. So innocent. It’d be so easy to stop here. To call it good, to leave it alone, to shove it in a corner and forget about it. But a part of Peter’s mind knew it wouldn’t be enough. He had to get more of it  _ out _ , like some type of cyst. It wasn’t enough to just cut a hole, remove a tiny layer. It had to come  _ out _ in order to feel better. Pen was pressed to paper once more, and the floodgates of ink were opened.

_ I remember too much. I don’t remember everything. Some parts are too faded to think about. I remember Skip and the river and the building. Sometimes when I’m asleep I feel hands or choking on the water or crushing weight and freezing rain. Sometimes in my dreams I’m trapped under the building and Skip is there, taunting me. Sometimes I can’t get out from under the building and the rain creates a localized flood and I start to drown before I wake up. Sometimes it’s Skip, touching in all the places he shouldn’t touch and then pushing me off a pier into the river, and it’s so cold, and i can’t get myself to swim. _

His hand is shaking too much now, and the words are nearly illegible. A distant part of him is aware he’s crying, but he’s not sure what for. He knows May’s asleep, and he really doesn’t want to wake her up, not for something this minor. Not for something this  _ stupid _ . Not for  _ him _ dragging up his  _ own _ bad memories and reliving them for the sake of ‘ _ well an article on the internet said this helped some people- _ ’ yeah, right. That’d go over well.

_If the past is really the past, it shouldn’t hurt this much. I’m not sure_ ** _why_** _it hurts this much. Nothing even_ ** _happened_** _that was too bad- i’m still alive. I’m still here and I didn’t drown and I wasn’t crushed and all Skip did was touch a little and taunt me. It shouldn’t hurt as much as it does. Sometimes its not even dreams. I’ll be at the pool and get splashed, and suddenly I’m choking on river water. Ned will lay on top of me at a sleepover and I can’t breathe because Toomes is there and dropping a fucking building on me. Tony called me Einstein in the lab and I started crying and couldn’t bring myself to tell him what was wrong._ _I still don’t know what’s wrong. But in specific, I don't know what’s wrong with_ ** _me_** _. I don’t think i qualify for ‘normal people’ anymore, but i don’t think normal people have these problems. I tried to look stuff up but all I found were links to anxiety disorders and frankly we been knew._

He’s struck with the sudden urge to slam his head into the desk at the same time the clock strikes three. Did he really just meme at himself in a notebook to himself? Seriously? Sure he hasn’t been sleeping well recently, but  _ surely _ he didn’t just use twitter vocab at himself by himself in his room and then  _ laugh at it _ . Maybe he needs to see a therapist. Hey, there’s an idea-

_ Maybe I should look into seeing a therapist? I could probably get a job somewhere, or Ned said I could set up a Patreon account for Being Spiderman, and then pay for therapy myself?? I don’t think May and I could afford it, and I don’t want to bother ~~Mr. St~~ Tony for something this insignificant. It’s stupid. It’s why i’m doing this instead lmao _

Skip a line. Breathe. He can’t believe this is actually working- he feels good enough to  _ lmao _ at himself. Behind him, the clock on his end table cheerily shines out a 3:07 AM.

_ I think I’m doing alright. Not good or perfect, barely even fine, but alright. Maybe I should have tried to stay more on topic, but the article said free flowing thought was okay, so I guess this is fine. I’ll do this again when I need it next. Thank you. _

Peter grinned to himself as he tore the five pages out of the pocket notebook. The handwriting was shaky at first, but gradually smoothed out. His chest felt lighter, and as he moved to open the window, he caught the barest glimpse of his smiling reflection and realized he couldn't remember the last time he'd looked so at peace with himself. Double checking that he had the materials he'd need, Peter climbed out onto the fire escape, shivering minutely at the cool New York air and closing the window with the smallest of clicks. He made it up to the roof of the apartment complex, and began the shockingly simple process of short circuiting the old portable charger.

  
The small glow of five tiny papers burning was lost in the overall light pollution of Queens- the anxieties and troubles transforming into curling acrid smoke that was nearly impossible to distinguish from the clouded grey sky, blowing away, baring his struggles and fears to the universe. The clouds parted for just a moment above him, granting a minute glimpse of the night sky. There in the stars, the briefest streak of light crossed his vision before being obscured by clouds once more. 

It was supposed to rain tomorrow, but that was alright, Peter thought as he delicately crawled down the side of the building back to his bedroom window. Rainy days were tinkering days, and for the first time in several weeks, he finally felt up to whatever creative exercises Tony would send him or ask him questions about. For just a moment, as he changed into pajamas, the world seemed brighter, softer, and more at peace. Maybe he and Ned could get together this weekend, maybe Flash wouldn’t be as much of a dick, maybe there wouldn’t be as much homework.

And as Peter allowed himself to fall asleep for the barest of hours before his alarm would ring for school the next day, a second fire was just lit- hope rekindling inside of him that maybe, just maybe, things would turn out okay. He’d be okay.

**Author's Note:**

> If there's something that you'd like to see tagged that you think I forgot, let me know and I'll edit it as soon as I can! I hope you all stay safe, healthy, and have a good day today! (and if your day isn't doing too great right now, I hope it gets better!)


End file.
